Book Seven: Chapter 133

“When I was little, my mother was a tyrant. I spent a lot of years trying to forget, but even just the memory of her was enough to yank me back to years of emotional abuse. Nobody was there to take care of that small, frightened child. And yes, it took a bit of magic and more than a few lucky breaks, but I learned that even though I’m an adult now, that child still exists. If I don’t take care of him, who will?”

Ingrid groaned. “Ugh, this is more of that ‘love yourself’ bullshit. I hear it in therapy all the time.”

“Wrong.” Mike gestured toward the beach, where young Ingrid and Tink were dancing around a massive conch shell covered in glitter. “That little girl watched monsters eat her parents, but still has enough love in her heart to trust a green-skinned stranger to show her wonders on the beach. Where’s your sense of wonder, Ingrid? When did you forget how to find joy, to see the magic in ordinary things? You’ve worked so hard to drive that little girl away that the